


i'd love to change the world

by Imagining_Fantasy



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cat Hybrid Antfrost (Video Blogging RPF), Creeper Hybrid Sam | Awesamdude, Cultural Differences, Cultural References, Duck Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Family Dynamics, Fantastic Racism, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrids, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Police Brutality, Politics, Priests, Ram Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Revolutionary Wilbur, Sheep Hybrid Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), So much worldbuilding like an unhealthy amount, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29625060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_Fantasy/pseuds/Imagining_Fantasy
Summary: Wilbur is the adopted human son of Phil Watson, an avian hybrid with too many secrets. He is uprooted from the peace of a homestead and thrown into the largest body of hybrids on the planet - the Hybrid District of New York City.After he meets a quiet hybrid priest in the depths of the district's poor sector, his entire life changes, and he is forced to choose between the stability of his family and the pursuit of truth.Or, Wilbur deals with being a human surrounded by angsty hybrids and maybe becomes an activist along the way.
Relationships: Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Comments: 11
Kudos: 61





	i'd love to change the world

Wilbur twisted the knob to turn up the heat in the crowded car. A shiver ran down his spine as he curled into himself on the cool leather seat.

Winter was never this bitter on their southern homestead. It was tropical, if anything. He only remembered seeing snow a handful of times during his childhood, and it always vanished the next day.

The first time he saw snow, he ran into Phil’s arms crying, cold, and confused. His adopted father ran a hand through his mussed hair and explained that the rain sometimes became fluffy so it could stay warm in the cold, like a great bear’s winter coat. Looking back, it was ridiculous, but Phil always seemed to make reality more magical than it really was.

Tommy shifted in his sleep next to him and pressed his foot harder into Wilbur’s calf. The corner of his mouth twitched. He almost considering shaking his younger brother awake, but the dark circles under the blonde’s eyes stayed his hand. The past week had been rough on him.

Moving halfway across the country is tough on kids. Wilbur would know; his childhood was a blur of loud foster homes and hiding in dark, cramped closets from bitter, haunted kids.

The radio began to hum through the speakers as they drew closer to their destination and towards civilization, and he watched Phil reach forward in the driver’s seat to twist the dial, increasing the volume.

_“-more on that story as it develops,”_ a female’s scratchy voice announced. _“In other news, there was a riot in Times Square today after a hybrid protest march turned violent. The cause of the outbreak is not yet known, but New York City HORDE chief John Andrews claims it was ‘yet another case of belligerent hybrids being a danger to humans.’ Witnesses to the event are currently undergoing questioning and criminal identification. The insurrectionists were likely supporters of the Shepherd Society - an underground group of hybrid operatives harboring dangerous fugitives from law enforceme-”_

Techno in the passenger seat, who had awoken during the broadcast, turned off the radio with a grunt. “Fuckin’ humans,” he hissed under his breath.

“ _Techno_ ,” Phil reprimanded without much venom.

“What, Dad?” Techno snapped. “Am I supposed to agree with that?”

Unlike their father, Techno’s furious flame of injustice always burned bright. He stumbled through the front door of their old home battered and bruised more times than he could remember. Even though it was deadly for someone who looked like Techno to be rebellious, his brother was fearless in a way no one else was.

Phil clamped his mouth shut. A pellet of ice bounced off the windshield with a loud _thwack_. An excruciating silence followed, and he very much wished to open the car door and roll out. He glanced over Tommy’s sleeping form with envy.

“You don’t have to agree,” Phil said eventually, voice cool and steady. “I never said you had to. But if we hate all of them, we’re no better than they are. Just look at your brothers.”

Wilbur shrunk in his seat, face flushing red. He hated when Phil did this. The seat belt across his chest was suddenly too tight. He waited for Techno to glare at him or spit an insult. The two of them were close, sure, but he never knew what to expect from adoptive siblings, no matter how well they got along.

The deep piglin’s huff escaped Techno’s mouth and he turned his head away from Phil to stare out the window.

The remainder of the drive was completed in silence, besides the steady swoosh of the windshield wipers and Tommy occasionally turning over in his sleep. His skin was uncomfortable and hot from the hours of heated air expelled against it. Wilbur fiddled with his metal bracelet, twisting it around his wrist.

As the sun set and dark clouds crowded the sky, the highway widened and more and more cars crowded its streets as the terrain transformed from forested hills to industrialized suburbs. Street lights appeared alongside the road, pale light illuminating the soot-covered snow lining the streets. A dark green road sign displayed **“New York City - 15 miles”** in bold white lettering.

The smell of pollution and sewage crept into his nose. His face wrinkled. He missed the homestead’s comforting aroma of soil, corn stalks, and sunflower seeds already. This place would give him lung cancer by the time he turned thirty.

Phil’s wings were doing that thing where they twitched and puffed up, revealing fears his father kept carefully hidden.

Throughout the entire moving process, Phil was constantly reassuring them and talking up how amazing the city was going to be, but it was hard tricking kids who were forced to grow up too fast. Reading between the lines was survival instinct. When Phil broke the news, he saw Techno’s troubled gaze and the carefully masked terror underneath Tommy’s jokes. None of them ever stayed with a family long enough to move houses, let alone states.

The car slowed to a stop as they approached a line of cars waiting at a boom barrier. Two tall concrete towers adorned with blinding spotlights beamed down, black smoke pumping out of their roofs. Massive chain link fences with barbed wire at the top lined the road on either side, and he wasn’t sure if they were meant to keep them in or something else out.

Phil turned back to look at Wilbur, an unreadable expression on his face. “Stay quiet unless they ask you a question, okay mate? We don’t know what kind of HORDE officers we’re dealing with.”

  
Wilbur nodded and his gaze fell to Tommy. Phil looked down at his youngest son and his eyes dulled.

Heavy footsteps approached the car. His heart rate immediately began to skyrocket. Techno shrunk in his seat, making himself look as harmless and small as possible - it didn’t do much. His brother’s stocky build, sharp tusks, and eyes the color of blood would alarm any human.

Wilbur looked down at his hands, vision tunneling. Dozens of gruesome scenarios played out in his head.

He registered the sound of the driver’s side window being rolled down and the feeling of freezing air flooding the car. The cold only served to amplify the goosebumps and shaking plaguing his skin.

“State your name, business, and hybrid status,” a gruff voice said. It was muffled as if the man was wearing a mask.

Or riot gear.

Phil cleared his throat, wings shifting. “Phil Watson. I’m, uh, moving to the city with my family for work. I’m a registered avian, of House Horan.”

  
“Horan, eh? Should’ve known ‘cause of the wings and all. Guessing you’re going to East Ridge, then. Alright,” there was shuffling outside the car, “I’m gonna need to see registration papers and inspect your trunk. Then you can be on your way-”

A spotlight’s beam passed through the car and over Techno’s face, illuminating his brother’s features. Techno’s ears pressed against the side of his head. Wilbur’s breath caught. _Fuck_.

“Is that your son?” The officer’s tone was edging on something dangerous.

“Yes, sir.” Phil nodded. “He’s 19, same as my middle child. Registered domestic. He’s Horan, same as me.”

Of course. The oldest lie in the book for their family.

Someone who didn’t know any better would think Techno was a pig or boar hybrid - one of the passive domestic hybrids humans loved to coddle. But HORDE was not your run-of-the-mill civilian. They were trained to find exotics. Netherspawn. _Endborne_. Freaks of nature that caused explosions, stood ten feet tall, fought with primal fury, and hurdled fireballs.

There was a stretched moment of silence with only the buzz of electricity and the hum of the heater filling it. If Wilbur had a weapon, he’d be reaching for it.

“Hm.” The HORDE officer almost sounded bored. “Very well. You must’ve had an interesting wife.”

Wilbur exhaled. Phil handed the officer a stack of papers, the fragile documents passing through the open window with unsteady hands. Techno was as still as a statue, eyes trained forward and jaw clenched.

The second the window was rolled back up, his father put a hand on Techno’s arm. His eyes were flooded with concern. “Breathe, Tech.”

A pained exhale escaped his brother’s throat. “H-How did you- that _shouldn’t_ have-”

“Luckily your Dad has a few tricks left up his sleeve.” He let out an empty chuckle. “They should give us an easier time. Thank God for my House.”

An easier time than what, Wilbur had no clue. But it seemed to ease his brother’s nerves.

Techno nodded but his gaze was far away. His jaw was clenched so hard that Wilbur worried about his tusks piercing his nose. His brother didn’t relax until Phil shifted the car out of park and began their trek into the Holland Tunnel.

In the pitch black of the tunnel, Wilbur picked at the skin on his hands, trying to process the strange conversation at the checkpoint.

Phil never told them what that thing was: _House Horan_. For all he knew about hybrids, his father could be royalty. With their culture kept carefully omitted from textbooks and news, he knew next to nothing, despite having a hybrid parent and sibling.

He never asked, but he knew Techno was just as oblivious. His father probably gave the subject a wide berth after he took Techno in.

Piglins were not a popular topic. They were only found roaming the deserts around the world, attacking nomads and killing civilians for their precious valuables. Techno must’ve been one of the only piglin hybrids in the Americas. That’s what Wilbur assumed, anyways. Most of them were hunted down in the Mojave Desert in the 19th century, akin to the bison of the Great Plains. It was a fun little game for pioneers at the time. Now, most piglin clans were pawns in the conflicts in North Africa and the Middle East, since their ferocity in combat was so feared.

Wilbur studied hybrid history too much for his own good. As a human, he really didn’t need to. But there was something about it that made his skin itch. Secrecy only made things more tantalizing to him. Having a thirst for knowledge in a group that loved to ignore it was dangerous. He’d gotten enough slaps on the ear - not from Phil, of course not from Phil - for parroting question after question when he was an annoying kid.

But if he learned anything from his childhood, it’s that you learn quite a bit about people when thrust into a new environment. He prayed this change would unchain the family secrets and topics they’d tiptoed around forever. Like whatever _House Horan_ was, and why Phil never used his enormous wings to fly. 

Edgar Allan Poe once said, “ _There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told_.” The rest of the passage was eccentric commentary and anti-Semitism; however, that’s a normal day in nineteenth century Europe. And that wasn’t his point.

The point was most people lived, grew old, and died without ever desiring to see the uglier side of life. They brushed past the orphans in the streets, then waltzed to their matinee show at a theater. They lied to their children about things that would taint their innocence, so they changed the TV channel if the news got a little too controversial. Wilbur knew this lesson best.

Humans adored the waters of Lethe, and hybrids were safer in hiding anyways. Going against this reality was like swimming upriver, powerful rapids fighting every millimeter of progress. Every step forward threw him a dozen back.

  
So, he sat silent in the backseat of his father’s car as they entered a city split in two.

A road sign told him as much. The top line directed cars going to the human district north, towards the skyscrapers and bountiful neighborhoods of Manhattan and Brooklyn. The bottom line eased them forward. East. They didn’t call it “East Ridge” for nothing, he supposed. Quite a downgrade from “Queens,” he had to say.

Apparently the city used to have five boroughs. He didn’t really mind the change - five was a stupid number anyways. He hated prime numbers. But two districts makes segregation a little too obvious. Whoever the genius was that made that decision was a proper wanker.

A noise to his right startled him out of his thoughts.

“Ah, fuck, my neck,” his younger brother whined as he sat up. Tommy blinked as he took in the city rising in front of them. “Oh, that’s new.” He turned to Wilbur. “Did I miss anything?”

**Author's Note:**

> This might be the biggest project I've ever taken up, but I hope this work interests some of my fellow worldbuilding nerds out there. 
> 
> This story will have every hybrid or headcanon hybrid on the Dream SMP, as well as some humans for extra spice. After I finish, I can release a full document of my extensive worldbuilding I've incorporated, but that's a long ways in the future. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. Kudos are greatly appreciated - you can't change your mind but it gives me a dopamine hit.


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